Friday, November 1, 2019

You knock; will I open? Do I hear?

My hands cannot touch you, my eyes cannot see you. I am distracted by this wind, these noises and worries.

O Lord, do not stop knocking, I beg. I may yet hear you when I learn to be still.

Make me ready, sweet Lord, to open the door. Let me fling it wide.

(Letter #1,756)